


As She Was Not As She Is

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-16
Updated: 2004-05-16
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7096348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You always like splotchy girls."This small story was written based on the events that happened in, "A Hole In The World" (5.15)  and contains spoilers for the episode. It also involves death and angst coupled with a deep sense of mourning the loss of someone held dear. The disclaimer is as follows: The characters, various dialogue and storyline within this vignette do not belong to me, they belong solely to Joss Whedon their creator, Mutant Enemy, and the various writer’s, producers, cast, crew and actors who portray them. This small story is not being used for profit, but rather for entertainment purposes only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As She Was Not As She Is

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Closing his eyes the tips of his fingers tiptoe across the pages moving with quiet unresolved agility, words beneath them coming to life, the sound of his voice alive in his ears, and Fred dying in his arms. He knows he doesn’t have much more time left, he can feel her slipping away. It’s eating away at his heart, chipping away everything he has inside; still he has to remain strong for her. He has to trust that Angel and Spike can save her that they can find the cause and arrive with the cure still saving the world. For a brief moment his eyelids slide shut, his brow arches and his shoulders slump. He is losing this battle and there is nothing that he can do to stop it. He feels so helpless with Fred lying there in his arms, dying. 

There is nothing he can do except to hold her, comfort her, kiss the top of her head, which he has done several times tonight, and read to her as she’s requested. He’s reading A Little Princess to her as per her request, because after all he is book man and he can make the book be anything that he wants and he wants it to be whatever she needs it to be. He reads to her as her small petite frame molds itself to his body, his fingertips barely brushing the hair back from her face as he glances down at her, leaning over momentarily to place another soft kiss on her forehead. He loves her immensely, more so than he’ll ever find the words with which to let her know, but somehow he thinks she gets it without his having to say it.

His eyes are big and full of pain, but still he presses on through the night. His heart feels like it’s being ripped out of his chest and he knows, believes that he’ll stop breathing the moment that she stops. His eyes pop open and he can’t think about that, can’t let himself entertain the thought of losing her not after waiting so long to be this way with her. For so long he wanted to be a part of her world, but was only afforded a spectator’s position watching and waiting, sitting there abiding his time and praying for her to come to him or for the right moment when he would go to her. In his arms this dying woman, all splotchy and veiny is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Her eyes peer up at him as he’s paused his reading momentarily, his hand slipping further down her face, cupping her cheek the palm of his hand softly caressing her face and he nearly chokes on his own tears, thick and raw in his throat as he hears her voice break the silence, “Do you always like splotchy girls?” And he has to half-chuckle and half-choke to keep from sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s my curse.” are the only words permitted to pass through his lips.

He reads a little longer to her trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his heart that he knows is becoming very inevitable, but still he has to let himself believe there has to be a way to save her, that Angel and Spike will make it back and they will be able to restore her. She shivers next to him and he pulls her closer as he watches her body contract involuntarily from the convulsions she’s gone into. Ilyria is in there hollowing his love out and inhabiting her skin, taking on her life form and there isn’t one thing he can do about it except wait, wait for Angel and Spike, wait for the cure, or wait for whatever may or may not come, whichever happens first. Behind her hollow eyes he can see the tiredness setting in around the frayed edges, he understands how tired she must be, how hard it is to fight. He has no words, he has many words but they aren’t the right one’s he doesn’t think.

Her voice is far away and strained, distant when she speaks. It takes everything in her and the pain is immense as it moves through her body, burning her from the inside out. She’s liquefying fast and there isn’t anything anyone can do to stop it, her organs are cooking and she’s sweating steam alone. Her eyes upturned towards him, tears creasing her small bird-like features she barely manages, “Will you kiss me?” and he doesn’t wait, doesn’t miss a beat. He’s there, he’s right there arms wrapping around her, pulling her up in his own strong arms, to face him supporting her fail body, as his eyes scan her withering but beautiful face, his lips pressing against hers mouth opening against hers as he kisses her so thoroughly, like it’s going to be the last time that he will ever get to kiss her and he wants to do it right. He wants to kiss her right, to kiss her like she’s never been kissed before.

He thinks he owes this to her, to kiss her like she’s wanted and needed and loved. He knows she can feel it, her small hand lifting as she presses her palm to his chest to feel his heart beating. Her voice is there as she pulls back and looks down, “Would you have loved me?” she asks. And he is so honest it almost burns right through him, “I’ve loved you since I’ve known you. No that’s not—I think maybe even before.” Her forehead falls forward slowly, softly resting against his. “I’m so sorry.” She whispers in a ragged voice filled with much pain. “No. No. No.” he stops her because this is much more than he can bear for the moment.

He thinks any minute now his heart is going to beat its way right out of his chest and he’s going to have to explain why his organ, the vital sign of life, is now on his sleeve, bouncing up and down his arm. He wouldn’t mind telling her, giving her the answer that she’s asking with her eyes, but he knows they don’t have much time and he wants to make what little time he has left with her worthwhile. He can feel her body shivering again, but watches her refuse to give in as her eyes roll back into their sockets for a moment, she fights to stay with him, to stay here and stay focused. “He helped me here again. I’m with him. He won’t leave me now. We’re so close.” 

He is there lying next to her strong arms wrapped around her small frame, strong hand holding the smallness of hers in his own. Pain reflecting in his eyes he listens to her as she moans in pain and talks of different things. “Would you read to me some more?” she asks quietly as she turns her head to look up into his eyes, hers burning with pain. He nods swiftly and begins to move away from her only for a moment to reach for the book as she distracts him by looking at the light above his head, “The light…it hurts my eyes, but I don’t want you to turn it off. But it hurts my eyes. Everything’s so bright and hollow. Cavemen win. Of course the cavemen win.” 

He watches in horror, utter astounding shock and pain foreshadowing his features as her body moves across the bed, convulsing in involuntary contractions painful to the touch when he reaches out with his own hands, leaning over body trying to calm her as best he knows. She cries out in pain once more and it rips right through him. He doesn’t know much longer he can hold on, how much longer he can take watching her in so much pain, listening to her cries of madness, delirious from the pain the oldest demon is inflicting on her. “Oh, God! I’ve sinned. I’ve sinned, and I’m being punished. I don’t know what’s wrong. I never got a B- before. Uhh! Sorry. I’m sorry. Make it stop!” 

He watches her writhing on the bed in excruciating pain overcome with grief, his hand rising to his mouth at the thought of his own inability to help her moves him to tears. He doesn’t think he can take it any longer when she begs him with painful eyes, “Why did we go there? Why did we think we could beat it? It’s evil, Wesley. It’s bigger than anything.” He doesn’t stop himself from leaning in closer to her, strong protective hands reaching out to touch her softly as he assures her, “I don’t believe that.” And he truly doesn’t, not right now, not while he can still believe that Angel and Spike will find a way to save her while saving the world too. 

She panics now as she moves back up the bed, scrambling towards the headboard. She’s still thrashing about, but it becomes a little more subdued. “Uggh!” she’s pointing to him now and crying out, “I’m with him.” Her tears coating her cheeks, “He won’t leave me now. We’re so close.” His eyes lock on hers as his forehead rests softly against hers, he promises her, “I will never leave you.” And there is nothing that would ever make him break that promise, he would die before it happened.

He loves her like the rain, cold and hard beating against the weathered window frame. He loves her like snow slippery and cold but soft to the touch. Their time is tempered and weathered he feels warm flames licking at his heart and a bitter taste setting in his mouth as he watches his love slowly die.

She is panting again, thrashing around on the bed as he tries to keep a hold of her. His eyes are watching her every movement, studying her in a way that he’s never known her to be. And he listens to her muffled hmm’s and oh’s, feeling his heart clench inside his chest. The vital muscle of life squeezing and contracting painfully, hand reaching up to his chest then towards hers as he catches it in his. It is so small compared to his and he can’t help but feel himself smile. “Hmph. Oh. Hmm. That was bad, but it’s better now. You won’t leave me?” And it’s all he can do to whisper, “I won’t.”

He’s holding her in his arms when she speaks again. “My boys. I walk with heroes. Think about that.” and it’s there, the pride and loyalty behind her sad eyes sunken back into her head, hollowed out with a small tiny light still left in them, something that Ilyria hasn’t been able to snuff out just quite yet. His fingers curl around hers, his tears more evident in his eyes, glittering like diamonds flashing back at her he finds his voice and manages to whisper, while walking his fingertips along the backs of her hand touching her skin softly, feeling it, feeling her beneath them, “You are one.” 

Tears form behind her eyes and spill down her cheeks. She is panting her body slowly stiffening in his arms, “Superhero. And this is my power: to not let them take me. Not me.” He is there moving closer to her beside her, sitting next to her and holding her. “That’s right.” She laces her fingers through his and echoes him, “That’s right. He’s with me.” He knows she’s burning inside and he cannot stop it, cannot subdue the pain. Ilyria is running her course, hollowing his love out even more, might as well be the one who’s heart is baking to a crisp, chipping away and burning the skin off. He thinks it might as well be him that’s turned into the human melting pot of pain and sorrow.

“Look,” he says as he turns is eyes back towards her, towards his love, “look at how well we fit together, so perfect, it’s like we belong.” He feels silly, British and almost embarrassed all at once, but he cannot ignore his senses. He has to trust himself enough to be so honest with her, because these are his last moments. These precious moments as he watches her slowly and painfully shrink away from him he knows he has to give her more than she’s ever been given, so she’ll have something to take with her wherever she’s going to. And he smiles when she smiles at him for the first time tonight. It is bright and beautiful and he wishes there could be more smiles and mentally curses the time that has befallen them. 

There is a moment, just a moment when her smile falters just a little wavering and her body jerks back forcefully, nearly tearing herself out of his arms, from within his embrace and he has to fight to hold onto her because that’s the only sure thing he’s had in his life and he doesn’t want to lose it just yet. He is being selfish now but he will remain her stalwart standing fast until the bitter end. Her eyes snap open and she lifts herself up with every last inch of strength she has left as his strong arms lock around her, pulling her body closer to his own, rocking her back and forth in slow rhythmic motion. His lips are pressed against her forehead and tears are glistening, coating his thick dark lashes. 

He watches her bottom lip begin to tremble and knows she’s losing the fight. “Shh,” he murmur’s against her ear, kissing it softly in a soothing manner as his other hand works to smooth her hair back from her face, “you must save what little strength you have left. It will do you better for it. You have to fight. You don’t have to talk, just concentrate on fighting. Just hold on.” Her body stiffens for a moment in his arms and then relaxes as another wave of uncontrollable convulsions ripples through her. He knows she’s worn and spent, and she’s ready to unravel. Each time it gets longer, each time it gets much harder for her to come back. She’s fading fast and it’s happening beyond his control. “I need you to talk to my parents. They have to know I wasn’t scared, that it was quick. That I wasn’t scared.” She asks him, though it is more a statement than a request. 

Pulling back he lifts his trembling hand, his world crashing in on him, the reality of it shifting in his eyes as he nods slowly to her. He doesn’t trust himself to speak just yet and when he’s able to find his voice he whispers, “I love you.” In the softest voice as he presses his lips to her forehead kissing her skin, knowing it won’t be much longer until she’s gone and Ilyria has completed her task. “I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared. Please, Wesley, why can’t I stay?” she whispers as her eyes cry out in pain, her body convulsing once, twice and then going still and he knows her time is now over. He doesn’t have an answer and if he did he doesn’t think he would be able to say it. 

Holding her limp and frail body in his arms his eyes fill with tears unable to blink them back this time, as he hugs her against him, rocking her back and forth, his voice ragged and filled with fear, sorrow and a deeper well of sadness than he’s ever felt before. “Please.” He whispers over and over. “Please.” As he hugs her body still closer to his, lowering his own head to rest on her shoulder, burrowing his face in the nook between her shoulder and neck, tears soaking into her skin, coating her.

There’s a hole in the world tonight. There’s a hole inside of his chest where his heart used to be, living, breathing and beating. He wonders if that hole is big enough to pass right straight through the middle of the earth, far enough that someone could be standing on the other side looking back up at him that same moment. Everything has stopped; he’s suspended in time and Angel’s too late. Two Champions trying to save the world couldn’t sacrifice the many for her. They faltered and in that time she passed. He understands. He’s not mad. How could he be when he knows she would not, Angel’s mission had given her, had given them all purpose and it was a cause any one of them would have died for and did. 

Fred had been their center, the one thing that they could all agree on and he would not cheapen her memory by shaming her Angel. He was there in Pylea and had saved her once, she had tried to save Spike herself and now both of them had done their best to save her. They all had done their very best. And he owed it to her memory to remember her as she was and not as she is.


End file.
